Fireproof
by akaJB
Summary: He knew he should say something. Make some move to get the conversation going again. That was the whole point of the weekend. Hash it all out. Get it out in the open. And come to a decision. A decision before they went too far down the path with Maisie. Before retreating wouldn't just hurt the two of them, but also take the young girl down with them. Post FK. Happy-ish ending.


_So, I've had this sitting around for a while now. I've never been sure when a good time to post it would be, but, hey, why not tonight. Heads up that angst is definitely the main driver here. It does end with a happy-ish ending. And it_ is_ a one shot, no plans to continue. _

Summary - Owen and Claire take a weekend to make a decision. And it ends up hashing out their whole relationship.

**Fireproof**

_"You and I, we've both been through hell and high water  
__I'll be yours, you'll be mine, we'll be fireproof tonight  
There's a spark catching fire, feel it getting hotter  
__I'll be yours, you'll be mine, we'll be fireproof"  
_Fireproof – Coleman Hell

They were encroaching on the foothills of the mountains, almost two hours into their three hour drive, before either of them said a word. The silence that had settled over the car from the moment they had pulled away from the curb had carried with it a twinge of sadness, as if it knew that this journey may be the last. And yet, there was something comfortable about it. It was something that had surprised Claire from her very first interaction with Owen – no matter what, she had always felt comfortable with him.

They had the radio on low, but neither was really listening. Owen was focused on the road ahead, while Claire stared out the window, watching the scenery change from city streets, to farmland and almond orchards, and then the slowly rolling hills that signalled they were getting closer. Occasionally, she had glanced over at him, as his fingers would tap a rhythm against the steering wheel – nervous energy, she had decided after a while, realizing he wasn't in tune with the radio.

It was Owen who finally broke the silence.

"We're not doing any of this right, are we?" he glanced over at her. "I'm supposed to say I was building the cabin for you. That I thought of you every day we were apart."

"I hope you didn't," Claire replied, still looking out her window. "Whatever we were, whatever we are? I don't want to be your whole life. And I can't handle it if you're mine. It's too much pressure. Too much for any one person to live up to." She looked over at him, catching his eye briefly. "I need to be... me. To have my own identity. You do, too. I think... No, I _know_ that's part of what tore us apart." She paused, before adding, "We were trying too hard. Trying to be the only thing the other person needed. But it was an impossible goal. We were bound to fail."

There was a longer pause, as they continued along the road for a while. Claire went back to staring out her window, while Owen focused on the road that was no longer straight, as they twisted and curved around the hills, rising and falling with them.

The silence that had resettled over the car was broken by a heavy sigh, as the air rushed out of Owen's lungs. "I promised we'd stick together." Claire didn't say anything, and a couple moments later he added, "I didn't hold up my end."

"Not true," Claire disagreed after another pause. "The promise was for survival and... we survived." At his quizzical look, she shrugged. "It wasn't a promise of forever. It was a... promise to get through whatever came next. And we did." Claire fiddled with her hands for a moment, trying to sort out the words she wanted to say, the melancholy mood settling back over the car. "There are days where I'm not sure I would've survived without you, you know. Having you by my side during everything? It made a world of difference." She kept her gaze focused out the front of the car, unable and unwilling to look at him. She wasn't sure what she'd see on his face – pity? sadness? despair? She couldn't handle any of those.

There were a few beats of silence as Owen processed her words, before he said softly. "For me, too." He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel again, before adding. "I needed you then, probably more than you needed me."

Claire couldn't prevent the scoff that emerged at his remarks.

"Why is that so hard to believe?" Owen ground out, and she turned to him, eyes wide, surprised by the anger she could hear in his voice. He was clutching the steering wheel tightly now, knuckles white. "Why can't I need you?"

She wasn't sure how to respond, and her gaze drifted to her window again. The mountains were starting to loom over them, and she could see a sprinkling of snow still covering the peaks. Claire hadn't grown up around mountains, and the sight of them, cutting into the sky with their jagged edges, emphasizing their brutal entrance into the world, from when they had been thrust upwards a millennia ago, always took her breath away. She may not want to live out of a van, but she wasn't immune to the beauty of nature and the peaceful tranquility it could provide. She wondered, not for the first time, how they could seemingly be both so close and so far on so many issues. Like they were travelling parallel tracks, but somehow the gap between them was impossible to close.

They continued on in silence, the road steadily rising higher to greet the mountains.

"Are we just repeating history?" Claire mused aloud a while later.

"What do you mean?"

"Just doomed to make the same mistakes all over again," she sighed, her eyes searching his when he looked over at her, trying to find a glimmer of hope. "Has anything really changed? Are we... is this all just a reaction to having to run from dinosaurs again? To another near death experience?"

"Is that what this is for you?" Owen asked, his voice tight.

"Would we even be here if it wasn't for that?" Claire pried. "Would you have reached out if it hadn't happened?" Claire looked away again. "I hate that I don't know if I would've."

The rest of the drive was made in silence, Claire's words and questions hanging over them both. She had been honest, she really _wasn't_ sure if she'd have made a move to reopen the lines of communication if it hadn't been for Mills. She honestly hadn't wanted to then, but knew Owen would never forgive her if they were unable to save Blue because she hadn't told him. She didn't buy his line that he was okay with just letting all the dinosaurs die. That wasn't the Owen she knew. Not the Owen who had told her countless stories of Blue and her siblings in the weeks and months post Jurassic World, his fondness for them coming through even when he would complain about how they refused to listen.

Had he changed that much? And if he had… did she even know him anymore? Maybe they were just two people with a history that was meant to remain buried, both having chosen diverging paths the year before. Him to a life of solitude and her on a quest for redemption.

As they pulled into his lot, the frame of the cabin was casting long shadows as the sun started to sink low in the sky, and Claire realized they'd made a mistake in choosing the location. It wasn't that they were now on "his" turf – although there was something about that that got her hackles up. But the cabin was unfinished, having barely progressed from the state she'd seen it in when she'd sought him out only a few weeks previously. That left them with the van – tight quarters even when they were getting along and happy to be invading each others' space.

They hadn't brought much with them, only having a couple of nights to get away, and there was really nothing to unpack. Just a few items to transfer from the cooler to the small fridge. Owen made himself busy, starting up the generator and checking that the wind turbine was still working efficiently, before wandering the lot, picking up odds and ends that had been moved about by the wind and re-organizing some tools.

Claire stood at a loss for a few minutes, before settling on the back porch of the cabin (or what she assumed would eventually become the back porch), leaning against one of the support beams and staring down at the lake. She had her phone, thinking she'd check her emails, and do something _productive_, but besides tapping out a quick "we're here" to her sister, she hadn't touched it, drawn in by both the view and her thoughts.

x x x

Eventually, Owen ran out of make-work tasks. He could start work on the cabin – there was always something to be done – but the sun was now edging its way below the horizon. He'd been watching Claire, from the corner of his eye, as he'd moved about, unsurprised when she'd first settled down with her phone. But she hadn't touched it, having placed it face down on the wood beside her, arms hugging her knees to her chest. He wished he could peer into her mind and see what thoughts were tumbling about.

The car ride up had been both comfortable and not. He'd always felt soothed by her presence, and yet, the solemn and melancholy atmosphere had left him wondering if they were just heading for a drawn out split. That unlike last time, where he hadn't even realized it was over until he was driving away, that this time he was going to have to watch it happen in slow motion, unable to stop it and unsure if he should.

He knew he should say something. Make some move to get the conversation going again. That was the whole point of the weekend. Hash it all out. Get it out in the open. And come to a decision. A decision _before_ they went too far down the path with Maisie. Before retreating wouldn't just hurt the two of them, but also take the young girl down with them.

Instead, he started building a fire, crumpling up paper balls and adding kindling to coax the flames to catch hold, before piling on a couple of logs. Once he was happy that it wasn't about to die out, he headed into the van, rummaging through the food they had brought, trying to sort out dinner. Emerging with a plate of skewers, a mix of vegetables and meat, and a couple of foil wrapped potatoes he made his way back to the fire, quickly tucking the potatoes into the coals.

A second trip into the van and he brought out plates and silverware, along with a beer. He settled down on the log he'd positioned near the fire, watching the flames dance. Popping the cap off his beer, he took a long swallow. If he stared straight ahead, he couldn't see Claire from his position. But her presence was palpable, and as the nervous energy built again, he found himself rolling the beer bottle between his hands.

Once the potatoes were almost done, Owen drained the last of his beer and added the skewers. They wouldn't take long, and he got up intent on grabbing another beer first. He paused on his way to the van, before detouring until he ended up beside Claire.

"Hey," he interrupted her softly, not wanting to startle her. Claire was so lost in her thoughts, she did jump slightly at his intrusion, looking up at him in surprise, and then around, as if she hadn't realized the sun had set and it was now dark. "Dinner's almost ready," Owen answered her unasked question. "I'm just going to grab a beer, want one?"

"Sure," Claire nodded, stretching out her legs and picking up her phone.

Owen held out his hand to her, and Claire took it, a bit surprised, and let him pull her to her feet. They walked around the cabin frame, Owen stopping in the van to grab the beers while Claire continued over to the fire, settling on the log.

"Here," Owen handed over a beer, cap already off, before he grabbed the tongs and quickly turned the skewers.

"You should've told me you were making dinner," Claire said when he sat down. "I would've helped."

"It's not much," Owen shrugged. "You seemed… occupied."

"Yeah," Claire let out a slow breath. Her thoughts no more ordered then they were before.

"Want to talk?" Owen offered.

"Yes. No," Claire paused and then suggested, "After dinner?"

Owen nodded, feeling relieved to put it off a bit longer. He used the tongs to check the skewers again before dividing them between the plates, adding a potato to each. "Careful, it's hot," he reminded Claire, watching as she instinctively reached to unwrap the potato, his mind flashing back to the numerous times they'd shared similar meals.

He shifted until he was sitting on the ground, using the log as a back rest. He pulled everything off the skewers, carefully piling all the zucchini to one side. Why he mixed them all, when he didn't like the vegetable, he didn't know, but it was habit now to set them aside for Claire, to be traded in return for her mushrooms. He paused, staring at the pile, thinking how long it'd been since he'd done that. In the early months after their split, he'd find himself buying zucchini only to watch it slowly become limp and shriveled in the fridge.

"Something wrong?" Claire asked, when Owen didn't move, his fork frozen in the air.

"No," Owen sighed. He raised his plate up to her. "Zucchini?"

There was a slight hesitation, before Claire scooped the zucchini onto her plate, transferring her mushrooms into their place. "Thanks."

They ate in silence, both lost in their thoughts, and both trying to prolong the meal, not wanting to deal with what they knew was coming. When they could no longer pretend to be eating, they worked in quiet tandem, washing the plates and putting everything away, before returning to the fire, each clutching a new beer. Owen added another couple of logs, buying them a few more minutes, as they watched the fire grab hold, slowly creeping along the sides, sparks flying high into the dark sky.

"Did you always think we were bound to fail?" Owen asked quietly, picking at the label on his beer.

"I–" Claire put her beer down, leaning back to rest on her hands and staring up at the inky darkness above. "Not always."

Owen nodded, a little relieved. "Do you know what you want?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is _this_ something you want? Or… are we just here to hash out the details away from Maisie?"

"Is that what _you_ want? What you think we're here for?" Claire replied, her voice hoarse.

"No." Owen's answer was quick and definite.

"Me either." Claire felt some of her tension drain away.

"But I can't…"

"Can't what?"

"I don't _want_ that," Owen repeated. "But, there's Maisie to think about now. And even if there wasn't… It can't be the same as last time. I can't go through that again."

"Me either," Claire sighed. "How do we make sure it would be different?"

"You know there can never be a guarantee," Owen said, looking over at her, waiting until she reluctantly nodded back. "All we can promise is to try our best. Is that… will that… _can_ that be enough?"

Claire looked off towards the forest, barely able to separate out the tops of the trees from the dark sky, considering. "I don't know," she finally said.

They sat in silence, interrupted only by the crackling of the fire, both consumed by their own thoughts.

The fire was well on its way to dying out, when Owen spoke up again. "There were good times, you know?"

"I know."

He paused, before he added softly. "And I really did need you."

Claire paused as well, before reaching out and resting a hand on his arm, getting his attention. "I know."

As the fire died down to just red hot embers, the darkness of the night enveloped them. Neither had a made move towards the van, nor had they said anything else, just sitting there in companionable silence. Owen felt like it what somewhat fitting, watching the fire die. He'd thought about adding a log a couple of times, but couldn't bring himself to do so. He had a sinking feeling that they'd made their decision, even if they hadn't voiced it yet.

He thought he'd be relieved. He hadn't been entirely sure what he had wanted as they drove out there, but decisions usually felt better than being in limbo. Decisions allowed you to move forward. But right now, sitting there, he didn't feel relieved at all. He felt just as confused and upset and unsure about everything as he had when they'd originally decided to take this trip. He wasn't sure there was a decision they could make that would actually make him feel settled.

x x x

Claire had been playing with her empty beer bottle for a while, as the darkness surrounded them. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do next. They really hadn't thought this through – being trapped out on his lot with just the small van. While it felt like they had come to a decision, they hadn't said it yet. Hadn't made it official. And she wasn't ready to, even if it would make it easier to run away, or, at least, to justify going into the nearby town in search of a bed.

Even though she hadn't really done anything that day, she felt like she may as well have run a marathon. It had just happened in her head. Her thoughts had been spinning and colliding and branching and offering up every single what if imaginable since they climbed into the car. And yet, this outcome, them sitting there, watching the fire die as their relationship was quite likely dying with it, hadn't been an outcome she foresaw. She knew things ending had always been a real possibility. They wouldn't have been there if it wasn't. Although, could you end something that had barely had a chance to get started?

When Claire yawned, Owen turned to her, as if surprised to remember that there were two of them out there, and that it was getting late. "Hey, you should go to bed," he nodded towards the van.

"I'm not tired," Claire claimed, even though they both knew she was lying.

"Seriously," Owen said, as she yawned again.

"What about–" Claire stopped short.

"Me?" Owen asked, cluing in on what she was thinking.

"Yeah," Claire blushed, thankful for the darkness that hid it from him.

"I'll be in in a bit," Owen shrugged, either deciding to pretend there wasn't a potential issue or really not seeing it, but Claire was happy to play along.

"Okay," she drew out the word, before pushing off the log. She didn't have a solution, and Claire wasn't about to suggest that one of them sleep outside. If she was lucky (unlucky? – she wasn't sure), she'd be asleep before he came in.

She hadn't expected to fall asleep so quickly or easily. Not when she had entered the van and realized that even if he wasn't beside her, he might as well be. The few items scattered about, the few pictures stuck to the walls, all reminded her of him. But it wasn't that. It was that the whole place just felt like him, his scent invading her, like he was wrapped around her. She hated that it was so comforting, that it felt like coming home. Climbing under the sheets, and pulling his pillow towards her, she breathed deeply. Was this going to be the last night she fell asleep to this?

As Claire woke the following morning, it took her a minute to realize that it wasn't just the smell of the van enveloping her, but that Owen was literally wrapped around her. His head buried in the hair at the base of her neck, arms hugging her tight against his chest, one of her hands resting on top of his, and their legs tangled together. It felt so natural and right. She didn't want to move in fear of waking him up, wanting the moment to last. To memorize the feeling, and be able to recall it in the days and weeks ahead, when she knew she'd be wondering if they had made the right choice. When she'd want to reach for the phone and call him back. She closed her eyes, letting her body sink more fully into him, feeling his arms tighten around her. She drifted off again.

When she woke an hour later, she was alone in the van, the mattress cold behind her. While she was still warm, bundled under the covers, the absolute silence of the van started to get to her, as there was nothing to distract her from her thoughts, which were racing ahead.

Getting dressed, she stumbled outside, taking in the sun rising steadily in the blue sky, the light bouncing off the lake, and making the snow on the mountain tops sparkle. A perfect late summer day to spend lazing around lakeside, jumping off an old dock, or leaping from a cliff. Or, she supposed, ending the most significant relationship of her life.

What was the term that actress had used? Conscious uncoupling? Yeah, what a load of crap, Claire thought as she searched the area for Owen, finding him up a ladder, working on the cabin's roof. They may be doing this consciously, and they would likely have to work together to sort out what would be best for Maisie (which, Claire just knew, was either going to involve both of them or neither of them), but the idea that she was going to be able to just watch calmly from the sidelines as he found someone else? That she'd be there cheering him on? The thought made bile rise in her throat, and she swallowed hard and worked to push it away. They hadn't even said the words yet. She was getting ahead of herself.

"Hey, you're up," Owen called down to her. He put his tools down, before descending the ladder and crossing over to her. "Thought I'd get in some work," Owen gestured behind him towards the cabin.

"Do you have anyone helping you?" Claire asked, letting her curiosity and desire to avoid other topics drive the conversation.

"Not really," Owen shrugged, looking over at his cabin. "I mean, there have been a few things where I've had a couple of local guys come out and help, but it's mostly just me."

"That's… a lot of solitude," Claire let out. Since they'd been out there, there had been no indications of other people nearby. No cars driving by. No signs of smoke from a distant campfire. Nothing.

"Yeah, well…" Owen shrugged. Then again, she knew that was one of the driving reasons behind why he'd chosen that specific lot.

"So…" Claire said after a few minutes of silence.

"So," Owen nodded.

"I guess." Claire looked away, unsure she could look at him as she said the words. "I guess, this is probably it."

"I guess it is," Owen said, his breath rushing out of him. Even though they both had known it was coming, confirming it still hurt.

They stood there in silence, both looking out at the view, as the sun crept higher and higher into the sky, birds chirping and a light breeze rustling the leaves.

"Are we going to talk about this?"

"What's there left to say?"

"Owen."

"Claire."

"Is it really that simple?"

"I don't know why we need to make it hard." Owen looked away, unable to meet her gaze.

"I guess… I guess we might as well go back today," Claire finally said, her gaze resting on the car. They really hadn't planned this well, she thought for the umpteenth time. Now both of them would have to make the trek back into the city, although… Although, she supposed they would've had to either way. It wouldn't be fair to Maisie for only one of them to return, and the other to not say good-bye.

God, Maisie – what were they going to do about her? It was going to be hard enough to take her in together, but for one of them to be a single parent? Neither of them – nor their lifestyles – were cut out for that. They may have been trying to prevent taking her down with them, but it was already too late, the girl having easily accepted their presence in her life as her new caregivers. To rip that apart now… only a couple of months after everything else happened? She'd always thought she was going to be a terrible mother, this felt like it was just confirming it all.

"Might as well," Owen nodded, following her gaze to the car. "I can pack up my things today, get out of your way." He looked over at his van and then to the frame of his cabin. "Maybe I'll finally be able to finish this now."

"And get your hammock," Claire said, also looking over at the cabin. Her mind immediately picturing a hammock on the back porch, where she'd been sitting the previous evening. Imagined swaying in it, while watching as the sun set. She shook the image away – it was no longer her right to picture it. It wasn't going to be her in the hammock, listening as Maisie laughed as she climbed the trees, and to Owen muttering under his breath as he tinkered around with his latest project. Feeling tears welling up in her eyes, she quickly turned away from the cabin, heading back towards the van.

"Claire?" Owen called after her, surprised by her abrupt movements.

"I'll just get my things," Claire replied, hating the catch in her voice, sure he'd pick up on it. But he didn't say anything and didn't follow after her, which she was grateful for, the tears streaming steadily down her cheeks as she entered the van. She gave herself a couple of minutes to cry, before she worked to pull herself together. Claire gathered up the few items she'd brought, before giving the interior one last look over. A small strip of photos half hidden by a postcard taped up beside them caught her eye. She hadn't noticed them last night.

Moving closer, she shifted the postcard to the side, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of the four pictures, taken during the time they'd lived in the van, when they'd stopped at some small mall in some small town. Owen had coaxed her into the photobooth, insisting they had to have them. The first was just them smiling at the camera and the next of her laughing at something he'd said, with a big grin on his face. The third photo had him kissing her cheek, his eyes closed. And for the fourth she'd turned towards him, and he'd captured her lips with his, both of their eyes falling shut. She let the postcard fall back over, not sure what to think of the fact that he'd kept the photos, all this time later. That he had them up, and not hidden away (even if, yes, they was half hidden by the postcard). He was right, there had been good times.

x x x

Karen looked up, startled, when they entered the condo, and Owen realized they probably should've texted her to let her know they were on their way back.

"You guys are back early," Karen commented, her eyes searching over both of them. It didn't take long, not that Owen expected it to, before he saw a look of understanding cross Karen's face, turning quickly into one of sadness. Karen quickly pushed away from the counter, heading towards Claire, but Owen watched as Claire stopped her, shaking her head slightly, as her gaze moved over Karen's shoulder to look at Maisie.

The car ride back had been mostly silent, neither of them sure what to say now. The normal comfortable atmosphere that surrounded them having disappeared the moment they had accepted their decision.

As they had headed up to the condo, Owen had found himself wanting to walk slower and slower, not wanting to have to face Karen and Maisie. He knew the moment he saw understanding cross Karen's face, the moment they told Maisie, it would all finally hit home. That the numb feeling that had settled over him would no longer be enough to protect him from what was happening. Watching as Claire rebuffed her sister's advance, Owen realized that it was hitting Claire too.

"Hey Karen," Owen gave her a lukewarm smile, which Karen returned. The two of them had always got along well, bonding over their fondness of teasing Claire. That, and Owen and the boys got along like peanut butter and jelly. He knew that Karen had found him a strong and steady role model for Zach and Gray, which had been all the more important as her divorce had been finalized and the boys had dealt with the fallout. Owen had made a point to keep up with them, even after everything with Claire had fallen apart. He knew Karen had expected him to disappear but he hadn't – reaching out just as often, and even taking the boys camping for a long weekend when he'd been nearby with his van. Somedays, he would question what he was doing, that it maybe it would be easier, or healthier, to break that final tie. But he couldn't do it.

"Owen, Claire, you're back!" Maisie joined them by the door, reaching out and hugging them both. It was the first night she'd spent away from them, and Owen could see how relieved she was to have them back in her presence, which just made everything harder.

The only time they'd spoken on the drive back was to try to determine what to do about Maise, to come up with a plan on how to tell her. Neither of their hearts was in it, and there was no ideal solution. No matter how they told her, it was going to result in the same thing. On top of that, they didn't have any answers. They didn't know what would happen to her, and how this would affect the temporary guardianship agreement they'd been granted. There was still so much to sort out.

For now… for now, they had decided that Maisie would stay with Claire, where she had a bedroom, and they'd sort out Owen's involvement going forward.

Looking down at Maisie's eager face, her happiness to be back in their presence, just made Owen's heart break again. Were they doing the right thing?

x x x

The moment Maisie had been tucked in for the night – which ended up being much later than usual, the girl upset over the events of the afternoon and the second major change to her routine in as many days – Claire could no longer hold back her tears. She collapsed against the closed door to Maisie's bedroom, hand clasped over her mouth as she tried to muffle her sobs, her chest heaving, the lump in her throat making it hard to swallow.

Arms quickly encircled her, pulling her away from the door, as Karen held on to her tightly. "Let it all out," Karen murmured in her ear, one hand holding her close while the other rubbed her back. Claire let her head rest on her sister's shoulder, her arms wrapping around her and clutching at her shirt.

After a few minutes, Claire could feel Karen slowly guiding her across the condo. Trying to get her emotions under control, she let Karen help her sit down on the side of her bed, before Karen crouched down in front of her.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Karen asked.

"It's what it is." Claire tried to shrug it off but couldn't follow through, her shoulders slumping.

"You just–" Karen looked away from her for a moment, before she met Claire's eyes again. "I've never seen you happier, than when you're with Owen. And I know that stuff wasn't always good. And that I wasn't there for all the times it wasn't. It's just… I can't help but like the guy, Claire. And the way he looks at you?" Karen sighed. "I know that's not enough to base a relationship on. I just… I just want you to be sure."

"He doesn't want it." Claire wiped at the tears that were still steadily falling, despite her best efforts. She looked at her sister and this time managed to shrug. "How many times are we supposed to try and fail before we accept the inevitable?"

"Oh, Claire." Karen moved onto the bed beside her sister, wrapping her arms around her in a hug. Claire sunk into the embrace, never more happier than at that moment that Karen was there for this. She struggled to think of how she'd be managing if it was just her and Maisie.

And then, the tears fell harder at the realization that in a couple of days it _would be_ just her and Maisie.

x x x

It only took three days before the peaceful solitude of his place started getting on his nerves. It was the reason he'd bought the place to begin with. A getaway that actually _was_ away from others. Everything about the lot that he loved was now annoying him. It was too quiet. It was too lonely. It was too much time with his thoughts.

And worst of all, he couldn't seem to get away from Claire. Working on his cabin, his gaze would be drawn to where she'd sat on his soon-to-be back porch. His van now smelled liked her again. At his firepit, it just felt lonely without her sitting beside him. And, somehow, there was a damn zucchini back in his fridge again, haunting him everytime he opened the door.

Making a decision was supposed to make all this easier. Set them on a final path, and allow their lives to no longer be held up by uncertainties.

But he couldn't get Maisie's devastated face out of his mind, feeling like they'd handed her the greatest treasure of a family, only to pop it and show it was all just a mirage.

When he'd walked out of Claire's condo, his bag of belongings in one hand, he'd had to force himself not to look back. He knew Claire wasn't at the door, both of them having worked to keep distance between them, for the first time uncomfortable in the other's presence. But Maisie had been standing there, having followed him around ever since they broke the news to her. Karen was there too, a hand on Maisie's shoulder preventing her from following him out into the hallway.

He had worried that if he'd looked back, he wouldn't be able to leave. Which, on one hand, sounded great, except it didn't fix anything. All the problems, everything that had driven them to having the discussion in the first place were still there. And staying together for Maisie was probably the worst decision they could make. Even if in that moment it hadn't felt like it, he knew all _three_ of them would regret that more than anything.

As he wandered his lot, however, staring at his unfinished cabin, but unable to stay focused long enough to make any progress, he wondered, not for the first time over the past few days, what the hell he was doing. Why had he bought the lot and not just continued his life on the road? Why had he followed Claire to Nublar? Why had he agreed so quickly after the incident to follow Claire and Maisie back to San Francisco?

He was feeling antsy, ready to just pack up everything and get the hell out of Dodge. Try to find somewhere, _anywhere_, that didn't remind him of Claire. A brand new start.

Except, he couldn't. He'd promised Maisie he wouldn't be far away. And even if he hadn't, he was still listed as her guardian, and he couldn't, wouldn't, do that to Claire. Not until everything was all sorted out.

And even then? He'd have to buy a new van if he was ever going to escape reminders of Claire. They'd spent well over half a year living out of it together. He'd thought he'd finally managed to disassociate it from her only to have her spend the night there again. And his bed smelled like her. He knew he could wash the sheets (or burn them), but he didn't want to lose that last connection. Not that it was going to last, it was already fading away.

Standing on the back porch, he stared down at the lake, watching the sun's reflection ripple across the surface. It was going to get better, he told himself. It had to. He just needed time.

x x x

Ten days later, Claire was standing over the washing machine sorting laundry when she came across the shirt. There was really nothing special about it – it was just a plain blue cotton t-shirt of Owen's. Examining it, she couldn't help herself, lifting it closer to breathe it in, immediately comforted by the recognizable mix of his deodorant, aftershave, and something that was just _him_.

It had been long enough, both by days and loads of laundry, that she wasn't sure how it had only ended up in the basket now. But she found that she couldn't follow through and put it in the machine, instead holding it back. While he'd packed in a hurry, in the days since, she hadn't come across any of his belongings. It had felt almost too easy for him to erase himself from her life. She wondered if that was a sign – that they'd never really meshed back together – and proof that they'd made the right choice that day.

It didn't make it hurt any less.

She hadn't cried since that first night, which she'd spent curled up in Karen's arms. Claire had pulled herself together the following morning, pasting on a cheerful smile and refusing to acknowledge that anything was wrong. Yes, Owen was no longer there, but it was going to be _okay_ and things were going to work out. Maisie had looked uncertain and Karen had just shrugged at Claire's words, but didn't contradict her. She knew her sister thought she was making a mistake, even if she didn't say it.

Karen had hung around for a few more days, before she had needed to get back to Madison. The boys had been with Scott, but it was summer, and Zach was only home for so long before he'd be heading back to college and she wanted to be there for her time with him. Claire had told her it was fine. That she and Maisie would be fine. That everything was fine. And then, she'd had to stop Karen before she could remind her what fine stood for.

She set the shirt aside, finishing her sorting and starting the latest load. One less person somehow didn't seem to result in any fewer loads of laundry.

Then, carrying the shirt, she passed behind Maisie who was engrossed in some documentary on the TV. "Twenty more minutes," Claire reminded her.

"Okay," Maisie mumbled, not really paying any attention.

Later, after she'd tucked Maisie in, cleaned up the kitchen and moved the laundry to the dryer, Claire retreated into her bedroom. Owen's shirt was lying on the foot of the bed, where she'd tossed it earlier, unsure what to do with it. As she started to change for bed, she couldn't help but reach for it, pulling it on instead of her normal pjs.

Climbing into bed, she pulled the neck of the shirt up, tucking her nose just below the collar, breathing deeply. It smelled like comfort, like safety, like _home_.

The tears came, although they weren't unexpected. She buried her face into her pillow, trying to muffle the sound, not wanting Maisie to hear. She had to be _strong_. Had to show everyone that she'd made the right decision. That she could handle it. That she wouldn't fall apart – again.

Three years ago she'd had someone beside her to catch her when Jurassic World had gone to hell. And she'd let him. Which had just made it all that much harder when it eventually fell apart. Before Owen, she had always known she could take care of herself. But with him… with him it had been easier and she hadn't _had_ to. He'd been more than willing to shoulder some of the burden, trying to lighten her load however he could. And, the longer he was there, the more she let him. Until, one day, he wasn't there, and she realized she no longer knew how to deal with it on her own. That she'd become so used to there being someone at her side, to not having to go it alone. It had taken her a long time to pick the pieces of herself up off the ground.

If it wasn't for the DPG, she was pretty sure she'd still be a shattered mess. The DPG, _work_, had been her saviour. Something she had clung to, letting it engulf her focus 100%, until she was, again, defined more by her work, than by anything else.

Owen wasn't supposed to re-enter her life. Not after she'd finally gotten used to living without him again. Not after she'd built herself back up. He wasn't supposed to be able to just step back in, like nothing had happened. He wasn't supposed to get under her skin again, to make her crave him, and to make her feel like she'd never be complete without him.

She hadn't lied to him. She didn't want him to be thinking of her everyday or building the cabin for her. She wanted to know that they could both still _be_ without the other. But, in the few weeks he'd lived with her and Maisie, she had to admit that while she could survive on her own, it always felt better, _easier_, with him at her side.

But could she risk it all again? That had been the real question. Could _they_ risk it all, knowing how badly it had fallen apart, and how hard it had been to rebuild? Could they do that when there was now an innocent child in their mix, who hadn't asked for any of this? Who just wanted a family?

_Were they bound to fail?_

x x x

As she neared the lot, Claire could feel her hands trembling, and she gripped the steering wheel tighter. The whole morning had been a blur. But, somehow, she was now just minutes away from Owen and she was second guessing every action she had taken.

She shouldn't be there. They had made a decision. Together. It wasn't fair for her to just show up unannounced. What if he wasn't alone?

Her face paled, and she had to pull over, her chest seizing at the thought. She'd known his reputation on the island. She knew he was a good looking guy. His fire pit had more than enough seating for him to be surrounded by other people. Just because _she'd_ been alone all this time, both between their previous split and now, didn't mean _he_ had.

She sat there on the side of the road, clutching the steering wheel and trying to slow her breathing. Trying to remember the list of reasons she had for why coming out here was a good idea. Trying to reassure herself, that even if things didn't go well, at least she could say that she had tried.

Slowly, she pulled back out onto the road, for once driving _below_ the speed limit, the car slowing further as she approached the lot. Until she was there, pulling off the road and bumping along the dirt towards his cabin. She couldn't see him. In fact, as she looked around, she realized she didn't see his truck either. He wasn't there.

His van was, her gaze honing in on it, and so at least that probably meant he hadn't gone far. Maybe picking up some supplies in town. At least, she hoped.

Parking her car, she climbed out, meandering over towards the cabin. He'd made some progress on the roof, she noted idly, as she climbed onto the platform, before heading to the back, pulled by the view. Still no hammock, though, and she claimed the same spot she had last time, settling against the support beam to wait.

x x x

Turning onto his lot, humming along to the radio, Owen was surprised to see another car. No one ever came out to visit him. If he wanted to spend time around others, he headed into the nearby town. His lot was well out of the way, that no one would ever end up there accidentally. As he drove by the car, heading to where he normally parked his truck, he did a double take. He knew _that_ car.

He slowed down, peering through the windshield but he didn't see her. As he parked his truck, his gaze swept over his lot. Where had she gone? He was heading towards his van, to check if she was inside, when he finally caught sight of her, sitting on his back porch, and apparently too engrossed in the view or her thoughts or both to have heard his arrival.

He made a point to make some noise as he moved towards her, but she didn't even flinch.

"So…" Owen hummed, trying to gain her attention.

Claire jumped, as he'd expected, and turned and looked up at him, moving to scramble to her feet.

He waved her down, and settled onto the porch next to her. He sat a couple feet away, angled towards the lake, copying her pose. "Surprised to see you here," he finally said, turning to look towards her. Owen had been about to make a quip, when he realized he just didn't have the energy to do so. He wasn't sure what to make of her presence, and her obvious nerves weren't helping him calm his own suddenly racing heart.

"I'm sorry," Claire replied a few moments later, looking over at him and meeting his gaze.

"For what?" Owen asked.

"Not being willing to risk it," Claire's response was so quiet he almost missed it. "For assuming we'd fail before we even gave it a shot."

"Claire…" Owen sighed, his gaze turning to look out over the lake. "It wasn't just you, you know?"

"What do you mean?"

"I wasn't willing, either," Owen shrugged a single shoulder. "We both made the decision. You didn't force it on me."

They both fell silent.

After a few minutes, when Claire hadn't said anything, Owen spoke up again. "Why are you here, Claire?"

"I–" Claire gave a loose shrug, staring down at her hands as she fiddled with her watch. "I found your shirt."

"My shirt?"

"A t-shirt you left behind." Claire looked embarrassed, lifting a hand to tuck some hair behind her ear, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. "I was doing laundry and there it was."

"You came out here to give me my shirt back?" Owen was even more confused.

"No," Claire shook her head. "I just… It's stupid."

"You've never done a stupid thing in your life," Owen disagreed. "I doubt you're starting now."

"I miss you," Claire admitted. "After Jurassic World, you were just _there_. I didn't know how to depend on anyone, but you made it easy. Made it feel natural. But… when we … when you left… I realized I had forgotten how to live by myself. I didn't know how to get by without you. Learning to live again… how to be _me_ again, was hard. If it wasn't for the DPG…" Claire trailed off for a moment, looking a little lost, before she continued. "But even that… I know it saved me, that it gave me something to focus on. But I ended up right back where I was, living to work. Forgetting how to just _live_." She looked over at Owen, who was watching her intently. "I don't want to be that person again. I like who I am–was when I'm with you. I don't want to lose that."

"It's not _me_ that makes you that person," Owen said, when he realized she was finished. "That's who you are. You just have to be willing to let that part of yourself take control."

"It's scary," Claire confessed.

"Yeah," Owen breathed out, nodding slowly. "You know, you're not the only one who lost something."

Claire looked over at him in question.

"I didn't deal with it all that well either," Owen shrugged, looking away from her. "It helped, having you by my side. Not just because you'd been through it, but because you were _you_; strong and smart and successful and yet, someone who apparently wanted _me_. At the start, I think it was easier because it was just so overwhelming. There was too much going on and too much to deal with to think it through. But, as time went on, as we started to struggle, I don't think it's because we lost who we were, so much as we were trying to cope in different ways. I was still running, while you were ready to face the world head on." He paused, taking in a shuddering breath, "I wish I'd had your strength."

Claire scoffed. "_My_ strength?"

"I wish you saw yourself as I see you." Owen looked over at her, his affection for her apparent. "The way _everyone_ sees you."

Claire looked away, the blush rising across her cheeks, but Owen didn't push it. For someone so seemingly confident, she always seemed to struggle to accept any compliment as genuine and real. Sure that the flattery was meant for someone else. That she hadn't done enough to deserve it.

"Why are you _really_ here?" he asked again, interrupting the silence that was resettling between them. "You didn't drive out here all because of a shirt."

"I think I made a mistake," Claire admitted, eyes locked on his. "That _we_ made a mistake."

"A mistake?" Owen asked, not wanting to trust where his thoughts were going. Not without her saying it first.

"I was too caught up in what would happen if everything fell apart again," Claire stated softly, "That I never allowed myself to think about what if it didn't."

"If it worked?" Owen confirmed, his heart galloping forward. Was she really doing what he hadn't been brave enough to do himself?

"You and I," Claire shrugged, looking self-conscious. "We're different people now, I know that. But…"

"Yeah?"

"But maybe that's why it could work," Claire struggled to explain her thoughts. "We wouldn't just be falling into it this time. And we aren't dealing with the same fallout, with losing our sense of selves, like we were last time. It's… different." Claire shrugged, looking away from him.

"You know there's still no guarantee," Owen reminded her.

"I know."

"But you still want to do this?" he confirmed, struggling to believe what was happening, that his world was flipping 180 degrees again. "Want to try?"

"I do."

"_Did you know me and you  
__Must be fireproof with all the hell that we've been through  
__When all our loving lost its charm  
__Learned to make a shelter out in the storm"  
_Fireproof – Coleman Hell

* * *

_So, what did you think? Do you like one shots like this? Is it worth exploring other ideas? I already have another song that would work well for another angst-y one shot. _

_Also - if you haven't been, don't forget to check out **The Missing Years** (we're in act 2 now and a new chapter was posted Saturday) and **Illusions of Control** (new chapter every Thursday evening). There will be new **Snapshots**, but I've been focusing on the other two fics right now. _


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